the fine art of self-preservation
by notwithhaste
Summary: Tag to episode 3.06 The Other Time. Pre-canon. Darvey first time. /Somewhere in the back of his mind, where it barely even registers, a thought niggles at him. That they go really well together./


**A/N:** Someone prompted me to write The Other Time as touched upon in the flashback of chapter four of _all this reckless ache _and so consider this a tag to that fic or a tag to ep 3.06 of Suits, works either way. :) You don't need to have read that fic to read this. Helps if you've seen the ep, though, which I'm sure you have, many times. :)

Hope you like it. :)

.

There is only one thing on Harvey's mind when he shows up at Donna's door after quitting the DA's office. Okay, maybe two.

It probably says quite a lot about him that the first thought to enter his mind after quitting wasn't his career or his, as it turns out, pretty shady moral code; it was her rule, and the fact that it wasn't a rule that applied to him anymore. Luckily, he's not that concerned with his virtue. He is however concerned with what Donna thinks of him, which he finds baffling and incomprehensible considering he doesn't care much about other people's opinions on his character. Hell, he hardly cares about his character. But with her, for reasons he's so not equipped to understand, with her. It's different.

So he's there to get laid. He's also there to tell her he did the right thing. The second will probably lead to the first, anyway. (But that's not why he wants her to know.)

She opens the door in a nightie, and she doesn't look at all surprised to see him there. When she holds up the whipped cream and flashes him that smile, he knows why.

"What are we waiting for?"

"For you to figure out that it's time to come inside."

He doesn't need to be told twice, and he leans in as soon as he's over her threshold. His mouth is on hers before she's even fully closed the door. Pulling her in by the small of her back, he feels her hand hovering around the back of his head. He moves his lips against her and she responds, her fingers falling softly at the nape of his neck, pulling him in, kissing him back.

"Finally," he grins against her lips. "I know what you taste like. It's been driving me crazy."

She leans her head back to scrutinize him, "What do I taste like?"

"Hmmmm. Strawberries?" He runs the pad of his thumb along her bottom lip then puts it in his mouth, sucks, "The lipstick?"

"Lip balm."

"Whatever." He leans in again, "I could get used to it."

"I didn't know you were such a fan."

He narrows his eyes at her, "Yeah, you did." There's not a doubt in his mind that's why she put it on tonight.

"I have some in the fridge, if you want to –"

"Oh, I want to. Later." Is she stalling? Harvey pulls back, but only an inch, only enough to give her a proper look, "Are you nervous?"

"Me? Please."

He hums doubtfully, but lets it go. He's eager to kiss her again, but she's a maddening woman, "You know what goes well with strawberries, right." She shakes the can of whipped cream next to their faces.

He grins at her, "You really took to that idea, huh."

"Get with the program already, Specter."

"Oh, I'm there." Without looking, he reaches for the can and takes it, giving it a shake. She watches him curiously, amused. He opens the can and squirts some on his fingers, then smears it slowly across her lips. She tries to say something – a smartass remark, no doubt – but it's unintelligible under his fingers. "Will you shut up so I can kiss you?"

She pauses, her lips slightly parted, white and pink and delicious; Harvey seizes the opportunity and catches her top lip between his own. "Mmmmm," he says around the kiss. "You were right. This goes really well together." He sucks on it gently, watching for her reaction.

"I'm always right," she mumbles into him, but it's half-hearted. His tongue darts out and her eyes droop closed. Smiling, he walks her back into the living room, roaming hands and seeking lips, until she's backed up against a far wall. He lets his own eyes shut better to enjoy the taste. Somewhere in the back of his mind, where it barely even registers, a thought niggles at him. That they go really well together.

He pushes it aside along with her cardigan, his fingers darting under the material and over her shoulder. She helps him along until the her arms are bare and he's trailing his fingers over her freckles. She shivers under his touch. He smiles into the kiss. She's about to say something, her hand on his chest and her mouth moving, but Harvey isn't about to stop kissing her now so he takes the opportunity and slides his tongue against hers, effectively shutting her up. Her fingers relax and he pushes into her, pinning her to the wall, his hands at her sides as he deepens the kiss.

She seems to surrender, her body going putty under his ministrations. Her arms hover above his shoulders before going slack, falling and wrapping around his neck, tips of her fingers caressing the nape, her tongue gliding against his own. Her apartment is silent and his ears are filled with every little sound he's eliciting from her.

His fingers brush her clavicle, the swell of her breast and over her nipple and he feels her knees buckle. He holds her up between his body and the wall, trailing his mouth to her ear, "Weak in the knees?" He follows it by sucking the spot just behind her ear. "I told you you'd fall for me."

She groans, half-aroused and half-annoyed, and he fucking loves that sound. "I'm not the one who came to your door the moment you weren't my boss anymore."

"I'm not the one who was waiting with whipped cream."

"I had some in the fridge."

"No, you didn't."

"Shut up, Harvey."

"I'm just saying," he kisses down her jaw, scrapes his teeth over the sensitive skin of her throat, feels her trying to suppress a whimper."You seem to have a soft spot for me."

"Funny," her hand cups him over his pants. "You seem to have a hard one for me."

He can't help it, he chuckles into the crook of her neck. Then her fingers move up his length, the steady pressure just enough to render him helpless, his forehead falling to her shoulder. She massages the tip and he groans, feels his own knees giving in.

"You were saying," she whispers, amused, her breath tickling his ear. His cock twitches in her palm.

Harvey's not the one to shy away from the challenge, so he moves into her touch, grinding against hand. Donna's not the one to shy away either. In fact, she raises the stakes, her fingers wrapping around him as best as she can grasp through the confines of his suits and when her thumb presses on that spot just under the tip, Harvey folds.

"God, Donna."

Her lips brush his earlobe, her voice dangerously seductive, "Now just imagine what I can do with my mouth."

Before he can even process that, she's sinking to her knees in front of him. Harvey puts his arms out for support, his palms hitting the wall in front of him. He watches as Donna expertly undoes his belt, then his button. She takes her time with the zipper. Slowly parting the dark material, she brushes her fingers over the bulge; Harvey sucks in a breath.

"Now, let's see what all the fuss is about." She strokes him through the briefs, maddening and deliberate.

"Donna," he cautions.

"That good, huh."

He gulps - _gulps_ \- because it goddamn is.

Giving him one last slow stroke, she takes him out.

"Well," he asks, raising his eyebrows at her.

She looks up at him. "Oh, now you're just fishing." It's the closest to an actual compliment he's going to get.

He grins like the cat who ate the canary, and he knows he's well past the age where he should be this proud of his manhood, but there's something about impressing Donna that just does it for him.

She calls him out, of course. "You are a man-child, you know that?"

Harvey smirks, "I think we can both agree I'm all man."

Donna shakes her head in disbelief. "You know," she starts as her hand wraps around the base of his shaft. "Size isn't everything."

"Oh, I have the skill to back it up."

Donna huffs and he feels it on the tip of his cock. "Oh, I bet you do."

Her hand is moving now in steady strokes and Harvey watches as she slides it from base to tip, giving it a twist, her thumb smearing the precome over the head. He can see down her cleavage from here and his eyes follow the trail of her freckles all the way to where he can just about see the pink of her nipples.

Pushing on his thighs, she turns them around until he's the one with his back to the wall, and he's grateful for the extra support. He's probably gonna need it.

"Fuck." He swallows, sucking in a breath. "This is hot. You're hot."

She shrugs, but he knows she appreciates hearing it. "I haven't even done anything yet." She's shaking that damn can of whipped cream again and his head falls back.

"Jesus."

"Oh, you're gonna wanna see this."

He groans and looks down just in time to see her covering the length of his very hard dick.

"You know," he tries conversationally, but his voice is strangled. "Your carpet is going to be a bitch to clean tomorrow."

Donna stops mid-squirt to raise an incredulous eyebrow at him, "Are you seriously thinking about my carpets right now?"

What he's thinking about is trying not to come before she even touches him, like some overly-eager teenager with a fantasy and a crush, but he's not about to admit that to her. "I'm a considerate guy."

"Yeah, right," she snorts and covers his tip. "There."

His cock twitches in anticipation. "So, Donna," he starts. "Are we just going to admire it or are we –"

Before he can finish, she takes him in her mouth and _godfuckingdamn_. Her mouth is hot and wet and he stares, dazed, as she takes him in, his cock disappearing between her perfect lips. Her eyes are much clearer than his own as she returns his gaze, and he feels equal parts impressed and aroused by the fact she doesn't look away, doesn't falter. There is no false modesty or misplaced shame there. In fact, he's pretty sure she's smirking at how helpless he must look. How helpless he feels. His hand is shaky as he steadies himself on the wall behind him. Donna Paulsen is on her knees in front of him, sucking him off, and somehow she's the one with the upper hand. Harvey thinks it's pretty fitting she'd be topping from the bottom; he's her goddamn boss and even in the office she seems to be the one running the show.

_Was_ her goddamn boss. Was. He wonders why the past tense bothers him so much; after all, that's the whole reason he's here, getting what is shaping up to be the best blowjob of his life.

That train of thought is quickly (luckily) derailed when she pulls away, her lips releasing the swollen tip with a _pop_. He's about to protest, but then she's shaking the whipped cream and giving him that devilish smile again, and he licks his lips in anticipation. "Not had your fill?"

She moves her head in slow negation, "Not even close."

Harvey's breath quickens as the cool cream hits his sensitive flesh. "This is the best idea I ever had." He's unsure if he means coming up with whipped cream as part of foreplay or coming to her door, but it doesn't matter cause it's a resounding yes to both.

"The best idea you ever had was hiring me."

"That was your idea."

Donna smiles, "Exactly."

(Many years and countless side-by-side victories and losses later, he'll realize she was right, of course. The best ideas - the ones involving saying a proper goodbye to his father, or making peace with his mother, or walking over to him and kissing him the way he always wanted but never had the balls to - have always been hers.)

He notices some white around her mouth, remnants of the cream; the visual makes him groan. "You've got a little something," he mutters, his hand cupping her jaw as the pad of his thumb brushes under her bottom lip, tugs at the corner of her mouth.

She melts into the touch, turning her head to look. "Oh," she says, her lips moving against his thumb. Her eyes still on him, she runs her tongue over it.

"Jesus, _Donna_," he whines.

Taking his thumb into her mouth - and he feels that manoeuvre shooting straight to his crotch, his dick twitching pathetically between his legs - she sucks it clean.

"Waste not, want not," she says playfully, and he thinks _smartass_.

Harvey can't help it, though, his eyes immediately drawn to where she left off. Donna follows his gaze, laughs. Harvey shrugs, waggling his eyebrows suggestively, and she laughs again, "Point taken, mister."

She licks her lips in a way that is neither coy nor for show, and he holds his breath as he feels hers wash over him. Curling her tongue around the tip, she licks the fluffy cream off, and he twitches against her lips. This seems to be all the encouragement she needs as she extends her tongue to the underside, and christ, his knees buckle from the overwhelming pleasure.

One palm pressed flat against the wall, the other reaches out for her on instinct, stopping just short of her hair. He lets it hover there for a moment, suspended, before he retracts it. His fingers flex by his side, dig into his thigh instead when he feels himself against the back of her throat and holymother_fucker_.

The back of his head hits the wall with a thud, his eyes screwed shut, and it takes everything in him not to thrust into the wetness. She moves her mouth up and down his length, and he feels every suck, every swallow, every hum she makes around his cock.

He lets her set the pace but Donna seems to have other plans, and he's pretty sure it's to drive him to the brink of sanity. Releasing him from her mouth, she takes his cock and brushes it over her swollen lips. It's the most erotic thing Harvey's ever seen.

She reaches for his hand then, the one trying really hard not to grab her. Her long fingers tug his away from where they're bruising his leg and when he looks down, he can see the intention clear on her face.

He touches her cheek.

His fingers glide over her ear and into her hair, his thumb sliding across her cheekbone. The gesture so gentle, the moment suddenly feels too intimate for what this is meant to be - for what this usually is with anybody else - and she seems to catch it too. Pausing, she looks up at him; his heart is hammering in his chest and it has nothing at all to do with what they're doing.

He swallows, lets out a breath he's been holding, his temples pulsing as he holds her gaze.

She's the first to waver, blinking slowly - once, twice - before she takes him into her mouth again. It's slow - so excruciatingly slow - but deliberate, with purpose

(to distract; to obfuscate)

and there's no reason he should, but he feels robbed.

He feels like maybe it's for the better.

Her hair is like silk around his knuckles as she speeds up her movements.

He's only a guy, when all is said and done. Worse, he's only Harvey Specter, and pretty soon his brain is shutting down under her ministrations, hazy and unfocused as she brings him to the edge again, and he just _feels_.

Feels her tongue swirl around his length, feels her swallow around the tip, and he groans, his fingers tightening in her hair and if he gives in now, he knows there's no chance in hell he's gonna last, so he relaxes his grip and strokes her hair, pulling away, breathless and helpless and beyond aroused.

"I want to fuck you," he offers as way of explanation, pulling her to standing.

"Can't go twice in one night?" Donna challenges.

"Oh, I can go as many times as you like," he grabs her waist and steers her in what he thinks is the direction of her bedroom.

"No, you can't," she changes the course to where her bedroom actually is.

"You don't know that."

"I do know that."

He loves it when she's being a smartass.

"Fine. Four is my personal best," he shucks his suit jacket. "Still impressive."

"Three, tops. And I'm being generous."

He stops just short of her bedroom, "Any more of your lip and I'm leaving."

She smirks, pulling on the front of his shirt, "No, you're not."

He works the corner of his lip, smiling, "No. I'm not." He lets her reel him in for a kiss, chuckling as he falls on top of her on the bed.

.

Her fingers work on the buttons of his shirt with Donna-like efficiency he finds equal parts impressive and amusing.

She stops halfway to give him a look. "What," she challenges, and he finds it — well, he finds it endearing.

Propping himself on one hand, he grabs her thigh with the other, moving it up until her leg is hitched. "You're very," his hand cups her ass. "Goal-oriented."

"That's why you hired me."

Harvey's hand moves up over her hip. "That's not why I hired you," he smirks.

She rolls her eyes and digs her heel into the back of his thigh, "It was the calendar."

"It was the coffee."

Donna smiles, resuming the work on his buttons; one, two, three, and his shirt comes open. "It's always the coffee."

Propping himself up, he frowns down at her, "How many are we talking about here, exactly?"

She lets out a short laugh as she pushes the shirt over his shoulders. "Jealous?"

"A little," he says indignantly, finds that he means it.

She laughs again, softer this time, her nails tracing down his biceps as she pushes off his shirt. "You're the only one for me, Harvey." She pats his cheek with her other hand.

She doesn't mean anything by it; like most of their conversations, it's simply a well-established banter, an easy game of verbal ping-pong.

In the back of his mind where he doesn't dare go, he finds that lacking.

He finds that he wants to touch her.

Hand on her waist, he bunches up the pink silk of her nightgown as he moves slowly, excruciatingly upwards, over the soft skin of her waist and up over her ribs, the length of his thumb brushing the side of her right breast. Her breath hitches as she grinds up against him, and that feels good. The contact and her reaction, that feels like something he knows what to do with, knows where to take. There is no uncertainty in sex.

Something catches his eye, and he has an idea now. He kisses her neck, reaching blindly for the bedside table. "What have we here."

Donna looks puzzled, but only for a moment. "I thought we might need a spare."

"I love the way you think," his tongue is wedged in his bottom lip as he lifts off her.

"I know."

He shakes the can, and it's not quite full. "This has been used."

Donna shrugs, nonchalant, but he can see she's a little flustered.

He's a poker player, he notices. He's pretty sure he knows - hopes to god he's right - but has to check. "With someone else or alone?"

"Told you you wouldn't want to share."

Lowering himself on his arm until their faces are a hair's breadth away, his voice is low and measured, "I don't."

Her eyes scan his face, her smirk gone. He knows that look. She's pulling her Donna shit on him, reading him.

He changes the subject. "So you did think about it."

"I told you. I think about a lot of things."

Putting his mouth to her ear, he utters under his breath, "I thought about it too." He wants her to know it's not about gloating. Okay, it's mostly not about gloating. But he wants her to know that for all the back and forth, it's a level playing field. They're in this together. For the life of him he can't figure out why it's important, but it is.

Her leg hitches up, her heel brushing the back of his calf. "I was alone," she answers his earlier question.

He props himself up on his elbow to look at her. "Fuck," he groans, his dick twitching.

The implications of that - of her using it on herself; of her using it on herself thinking about _him_ \- fill his head with all sorts of images. He wants to ask her so many things, like when and for how long and jesus, he wonders if she ever got herself off thinking about him while he did the same thing across town. Before he can get the word out, she's shifting underneath him.

"Are we just going to admire me, or," she cocks an eyebrow and he realizes he's been staring at her like a fool.

He tugs at the lace trim barely covering her breasts, "Why don't you take that off and we can see if the fantasy lives up to reality." He was aiming for seductive, but it comes out strangled.

She huffs, but sits up. He expects her to pull it over her head, but she peels the straps off her shoulders instead, the fabric pooling around her middle, "It's the other way around, buster." Her breasts are full and exposed and he can't stop staring.

"No," he shakes his head slowly. "It's not."

Fantasy has nothing on this. He should know; he's becoming an expert.

Hand on her waist, he pulls her closer, until her lips are a breath from his. He feels her nipples harden against his chest and his cock is resting against her stomach and whatever smartass remark he was going to make is lost right along with him. He kisses her, hard and possessive and without any semblance of control. He hears her moan, tastes it as she opens her mouth to him, just as eager as she presses her body against his, moves, and the friction is driving him insane. His arm around her, he pulls her in, holds her there as she runs her tongue against his, catches his lip between her own, tries to get away. He follows after her, fusing their mouths together and she's melting into him, hand on the back of his neck as she pulls him down on top of her.

Abandoning her mouth, he drags his lips over her chin, kissing her neck, teeth grazing her throat. Her head falls back to give him better access, her fingers digging into his skin, her entire body yielding to him, spurring him on.

He sucks on the spot just above her collarbone. She digs her nails into his bicep.

"You're gonna leave a mark," she says under her breath, but it's not in protest.

He double checks anyway. "Do you really care," he asks into her shoulder.

She doesn't answer. Instead, she runs her fingers up his arm, her nails no doubt leaving a mark of their own. He bites her shoulder because he kinda likes the thought of staying with her, even after he's gone.

(He does leave a mark. Several, in fact. So does she. Most of them turn out to be the invisible kind.)

Something cold rolls against his elbow, and he remembers his original plan. Reluctantly, he abandons her shoulder and lifts off, grabbing the can. With his other hand, he pulls her nightie over her hips and down her legs until it's low enough on her calves that she can just toe it off. He forgets about it as soon as it's out of his sight because there's Donna, lying on her bed in nothing but her freckles and panties. Her chest is heaving and he thinks that's a good place to start.

The lid comes off easily and he tosses it aside. Bending down, he squirts the cream down the middle of her chest, between her breasts. He watches her watch him do it, her breath catching when the coolness hits her skin.

He licks it off in one long lick.

Moving to the left, Harvey does a slow white circle around her nipple, watches it peak. He can't help it, he flicks his tongue over it, just a quick taste before he moves to the other side. Donna's knuckles are white at her hip. He does the same around the other nipple, swirling the cream, but this time, he lingers. His tongue darting out, he feels the sweetness melting on his tongue as he circles it around, concentric and careful, taking his time. He reaches the peak of her nipple and rolls it between his lips. Donna's fingers bunch the sheet.

He sucks the nipple into his mouth, teases it with his tongue, his hand coming up to cup her breast. Trailing his tongue across, he pays the same attention to her right one, his fingers kneading the soft flesh as his mouth works her nipple, more eager now with Donna writhing beneath him, stroking her thigh against his hardness. She shifts just so and he moans around her sensitive flesh.

"Impatient," he murmurs, his chin dragging across the pink of her nipple.

"Time-efficient."

Harvey lets out a short laugh, kisses under her breast. "Where do you want me, Donna," he hums low against her skin.

"I'm sure a man of your," she pauses and he lifts his eyebrows, amused and curious on which term she's going to settle on. "Prowess." Harvey smirks. Donna rolls her eyes. "Can make an educated guess."

"Mhmmm," he drags him mouth across, his teeth scraping her skin, leaving redness in its trail. "I might need some of your expert direction."

"Don't you always," she comments, but it's not as even as she no doubt meant it to be. He's affecting her. Harvey uses his teeth again and she moans, deep and unintentional. She is definitely a fan of that. He files that knowledge for future use.

Pushing on him gently, she grabs the whipped cream from the bed and gives it a shake. He watches, mesmerized, as she squirts a long line down her stomach; he grins when he realizes she's making an arrow.

"Is that clear enough for you?'

She's playful and demanding and pliant and in charge. Somehow, she's everything at once and everything he ever fantasized her to be. Harvey runs his hands down her sides, his mouth just shy of her sternum. "I think I can take it from here."

He's looking up at her as he licks his way down her middle. Reaching her belly button, he stops, his tongue dipping in and scooping the dessert. "Delicious."

"Me or the cream?"

He grins, "Let's find out."

Her hips buckle and his grin stretches wider. "Shut up," she says even though she's not even looking at him.

Her hand flies to the back of his head and he doesn't need more encouragement than that. He loved her mouth around him earlier, driving him to the brink of sanity, but he finds he loves this a hell of a lot more. Donna Paulsen, unraveling under his hands lips tongue teeth is the hottest thing he's ever witnessed.

Kissing his way down, faster now, eager to get to her center, he feels her fingers flex, tugging on his hair, digging into his scalp when he reaches the edge of her panties. Pink lace to match the nightdress, and he already knew she's planned for this - the strawberries on her lips and the whipped cream in her hand - but it still makes him feel aroused and possessive and about seven other different things he's pretty sure are the absolute worst idea ever.

This. Is for him.

"X marks the spot." Her words are irreverent, but her voice is quiet.

He looks up and she's staring at him, the air suddenly heavy between them, and for a moment he thinks she'll say something, something that will turn this into more, and even if he wanted to try - which he doesn't, which he does _not_ \- he's so incredibly bad at more, he'd only end up losing her.

He doesn't wonder why the thought makes his heart clench and his pulse quicken uncomfortably. He likes his life better with her in it; that's all it is.

He breaks the eye contact and breaks the moment because he's horny - (not because he's a coward) - and Donna's face doesn't show any sign of disappointment and he thinks maybe he's imagined the whole thing. Maybe it's just his wishful —

His fingers pull on the lace, and she lifts her hips. He slides the garment over her hips, down her thighs, the heels of his hands trailing down, fingers hooking at the back of her knees.

A moment later, she's laying completely bare in front of him, and she's perfect. He licks his lips, runs his thumb over her lips and up her inner thigh.

"Time for the main course." He waggles his eyebrows at her and she calls him ridiculous. He squirts some cream between her legs and she's not laughing anymore.

Spreading her legs, he gives her pussy a long slow lick, scooping the cream and finding her clit underneath; he presses down with his tongue, holds her hips with his hands when she jumps at the contact. His cock is heavy between his legs as he continues to lick her, the tip of his tongue flicking over her, building her climax then slowing down, moving away from the bundle of nerves and kissing the outside of her lips instead, dragging his mouth lazily across her center.

"Figures you'd be amazing at this."

And she almost sounds annoyed and if that's not the most Donna thing.

"You're welcome," he grins, his thumbs parting her. He uses one to rub her clit as he looks up.

"You're," her words are cut off by a moan. Then. "An idiot."

He deserved that. He's not complaining.

Donna's not complaining either when he speeds up his movements, his thumb moving over her clit with more pressure now, until she's pushing against him, seeking out more contact. She's not going to say it, but she might as well be pleading. He gives her exactly what she wants.

Wetting two fingers, he slides them inside her.

"Jesus," she moans as he fills her, his thumb back on her clit.

Taking himself in hand, he watches himself pump in and out of her, her hips meeting his rhythm. He strokes his dick in time with his fingers. He adds the third and feels her clench around him.

He'd like to think he can do this all night, but the truth is, he's already stretched this out well beyond his limits and he feels his self-control slipping. So is hers, it seems, when he feels her pussy start contracting around him, and she's so close, but he's selfish and he wants the first orgasm he gives her to be around his dick.

He pulls the fingers out, and christ, she's soaking wet and beyond ready.

Taking hold of her thighs, he pulls her closer to him until he's positioned at her entrance, but Donna has other ideas. Sitting up, she climbs in his lap, her arms around his neck, her pussy hovering above the tip of his cock.

On instinct, he nudges upwards.

"Hold your horses, mister," she says.

"I don't think I can."

He feels her rub herself along his shaft. "Oh, I promise, I'm worth the wait." She does it again, his precome mixing with her wetness as she slides back down.

"Oh, I have no doubts about that," he says, moving his hips, making her gasp. "But like you said earlier," he pulls her in. "I think it's time for me to come inside."

Catching her off guard, he pulls her on top of him as he falls back on the mattress, and she lets out a surprised sound, halfway between a moan and a laugh, and Harvey's feeling pretty pleased with his manoeuvre.

Donna's about to say something, but the head of his cock is right where he wants it to be and he's so fucking done with foreplay. "Donna," her name is gravel in his throat, and her eyes go dark. He grabs her waist, "I need…"

He doesn't finish, doesn't have to.

Biting her lip and giving him a small nod, she positions herself above him, one hand on his stomach for balance. Her chest is heaving, her hair an absolute mess, her eyes on his as she lowers herself on him, excruciatingly slow. He watches her face as he fills her, a grimace of absolute pleasure as she takes him in, and his fingers dig into her hips, stilling her; he needs a goddamn minute if this is going to last beyond the embarrassing thirty second mark.

She starts rocking gently and Harvey tries his hardest to control the pace, his hands guiding her movements, her clit rubbing against him as she does. He feels her stretch around his hardness, accommodating him, feels her pussy tighten as he brushes against the right spot.

His hands travel up from her hips to her waist, stopping at her ribcage and pulling. She goes willingly, her hands on his face, her hair falling around him. She's looking at him as they move in sync and it's possibly the most intimate experience of his life.

A thought forms in that moment - this could be something, I could have this, this could be something I could have – but it never fully realizes, certainly never leaves his mouth.

And just like that, it's not enough anymore, not when she bites her lip and moans, when he hits the right spot inside her, her pussy clenching and —fuck, he needs to do that again.

Thrusting up, he watches as her face contorts in pleasure so he does it again. And again. And —

"Harvey," she whimpers and she sounds so unrestrained, so gone, so _his_ —

Reaching up, he pulls her in and kisses her, hard and unthinking, groaning into her mouth when he feels her fingers scrape the spot behind his ear, her thumbs on his jaw.

She's setting the pace, her hips moving faster now, with clear purpose of chasing an orgasm. Of driving him crazy.

Everything about this is driving him crazy. The sounds she's making as she rides him, the sounds they're making as skin hits skin. The way her face contorts every time he hits her g-spot, every time he pinches her nipples in the crooks of his thumbs. The taste of her as she kisses him, hard and deep; as he runs his teeth over her pulse point, the hollow of her throat.

He suddenly feels like he needs some semblance of control and so he grabs her waist and flips them over, and she seems to like that by the way she's gasping out a laugh and pulling him in by the back of his neck. One hand supporting his weight, he uses the other one to hitch her thigh. She wraps her leg around him, her heel digging in the small of his back, as he pumps in and out of her. No finesse and no drawing this out, his need to come - his need for her - overwhelming.

She reaches down between them and he feels her hand move as she rubs her clit.

"Fuck. Donna," he manages, strangled.

He feels her tightening around him. "I'm gonna —"

He thrusts harder, changes the angle, and then she's coming around him, her hand flying to his arm, nails digging into skin as her pussy contracts around him in waves of pleasure. One final thrust and he's right there with her, and he's about to pull out but she's pulling him in, riding out her orgasm on his cock and coaxing out his own. His cock pulses with release.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

He collapses on top of her, breathless and spent, buries his face in the crook of her neck.

"Jesus," he pants out. He's still hard inside of her.

"Yeah. That was," she trails off, her fingers moving lazily on the back of his head.

"Definitely worth the wait."

She chuckles low in her throat. "I hate to say I told you so, but," he feels her shrug.

"No, you don't," he huffs, gently kissing the side of her neck.

"We need to clean up."

"Yeah." Lifting his head just enough to see her face, he asks, "About that."

"I'm a single woman in her twenties, Harvey. I'm on the pill." She pats the back of his head, "And you're clean."

He's about to ask how she knows that, but doesn't see the point. She's right and she's Donna. She really does seem to know everything.

She shakes her head, chuckles again. "When will you learn."

He kisses her to wipe that smug look off her face. (He kisses her because he really really likes it.)

.

Eventually, they do move. Rolling off her, he gives her shoulder a playful bite, heads for the shower. She's right behind him, her hand gently slapping his ass as she walks past him, sashaying her hips and shooting him a playful wink over her shoulder. His tongue wedged in his cheek, he shakes his head at her and follows her into the bathroom.

She's adjusting the water and stepping in and he's right behind her, one arm wrapping around her middle, pulling her flush against him.

"Already?" She laughs as she feels his semi prod the small of her back.

"I told you. My recovery time is pretty impressive."

The truth is, he's never recovered this quickly, and the way she hums in response, he wonders if she knows it, too.

He kisses the side of her neck, licks the droplets of water off her shoulder. Moving her hair to the side, he trails his tongue down her spine, kisses between her shoulder blades, her head falling back as she curves into his touch. Cupping her breasts, he gives them a soft squeeze, kneads them under the warm spray of the shower.

She pushes back into him, opens her legs wider. His fingers travel down to the apex of her thighs. "You're wet already," he murmurs into her hairline.

"We're in the shower."

"No." Parting her, he runs a finger down her clit, dips it inside her. "You're wet for me."

She swallows a moan. "I guess we both have great recovery time."

Harvey rubs her pussy for another minute before he turns them so that Donna is facing the wall. Her hands are on the tiles as she looks back at him. "What are —"

"Hold on tight," he smirks, sinking to his knees behind her, trailing hot kisses down her spine as he goes.

She reaches out to adjust the spray. He licks the dimples in the small of her back.

His fingers find her again. The water and her readiness make it easy for him to push two fingers inside. Curling them, he feels the spot easily. Donna buckles against him, her right hand flying to her clit. He bats it away. "I said, hold on."

Standing up, he reaches around with his other hand, fingers firm on her clit. His cock is fully hard now, wedged between his stomach and her ass, as he works her pussy with his hands. He's intent on making this about her, about her pleasure, her orgasm, but then Donna squirms against him, and again, and he's pulling out his fingers and replacing them with his cock in one swift thrust.

She wasn't expecting it and she whimpers, buries her face in the crook of her elbow. Her hair is wet and he scoops it up as he start fucking her. He doesn't go as fast as he'd like, the water under his feet making it difficult, but what he can't do in speed he makes up for in vigor, his movements deep and deliberate. Her head falls back on his shoulder, her mouth open on a moan, her eyes closed in ecstasy.

He speeds up his fingers on her clit.

She comes first, one hand coming around to grab his neck and he puts a hand out to steady them as his own orgasm takes over, his thrusts becoming sloppy and unfocused. She muffles her cries in the side of his neck. He groans his release into her shoulder.

"We should have done this sooner."

"Yeah, well," she says, playing with his ear. "We're here now."

It scares the shit out of him, how much he likes the here.

.

"So. Skadden, huh."

He's sitting on her couch. Her hair is still damp, falling over her shoulders in messy curls as she walks over with his glass of wine.

"It's an option," she shrugs, tucking her feet underneath her as she sits down next to him.

"It's a good one."

"I know."

"Not the best one, though," he takes a sip, watches her over the rim of the glass.

"And which one would that be?"

"You were working for it."

She snorts, "Of course I was."

"We made a pretty good team."

"Team?"

"Yeah," he frowns.

"Oh, sorry, I just thought with you being here," she lifts the hand with the glass in it. "And me being all the way down here," her other hand is as low as she can reach without touching the floor.

Harvey makes a face. "Clearly, I didn't mean that."

"Clearly. You would have to be a dumbass to think that."

"I was a dick."

"You were."

He sighs, scooting closer, his left arm on the back of the couch. "I thought I made it up to you," he tries for flirty, biting the inside of his lip, his head nodding in the direction of the bedroom.

Donna laughs, "What, that?" She cocks an eyebrow at him. "I think that was very much a mutual pleasure."

"Can't argue with that."

"No. What you can do is apologize."

He looks her in the eye, drops the act. "You know I'm sorry, Donna."

"I do," she says easily. "I do know that."

"Good."

"Good."

Leaning in, he kisses her, just a peck then another. Just because he can. She kisses him back, her short nails gently scraping his jaw. It feels nice. It feels right.

"I'm starving," she mumbles against his lips.

He waggles his eyebrows playfully, "I've eaten."

Donna makes a face, pushes him away. That's —," she waves him off as she finishes her drink. "I'm not even gonna dignify that."

Harvey laughs and follows her to the kitchen.

They eat some leftover take out from a Thai place she likes for reasons unknown to him.

"This is awful," he points at his container. "What _is_ this?"

"Only the best food in town."

"I don't think this is _food_."

He washes it down with more wine, but finishes it anyway.

She's getting them another drink when he spots the strawberries. Coming up behind her, he reaches inside, his voice low in her ear, "I think it's time for dessert."

Donna agrees.

.

Truth be told, he's always thought food play in sex would be more awkward than arousing. There's nothing awkward about anything he does with Donna that night.

(And that really should have been his clue. Instead, when he thinks about it later, it's a warning sign.)

She laughs when he offers her the strawberry, the juice trickling down the side of her mouth. She's still chuckling as he steps between her legs and kisses it off.

"This is ridiculous," she notes as he rubs the half eaten fruit on her nipple. "And sticky."

"Guess we'll have to have another shower."

They abandon the strawberries soon enough -

"_I have all the strawberry I can eat right here."_

"_You did not just say that."_

\- because, while he might have been coy, he also meant it. He doesn't really need all this other stuff, not when there's a mostly naked Donna sitting on her kitchen counter, telling him he was right, they should have done this ages ago as he curls his fingers inside her, making her come.

Fingers on the back of her knees, he pulls her closer, makes her come again around his cock. Afterwards, he carries her back to her bedroom, stumbling a little along the way, and she makes fun of him, and he doesn't mind.

.

He's lying on top of her, his fingers drowning in the red. It's a mess of curls now, nothing like the put-together look of the unlike-any-other-secretary he's used to seeing.

He's a betting man and he'd bet that the rest of her gets just as messy. Not the hair and the make-up and the clothes. All the other things you can't readily see. Briefly, he wonders how together the real Donna actually is. The Donna when no one's looking.

(He wants to be the one looking.)

He catches himself in time. He came here for a fun night; he's not after anything more.

"What," she smiles up at him, her voice gentle, wondering.

"I just," he almost finishes the thought; it's on the tip of his tongue. He wets his lips as he scans her face and tastes her there. She doesn't look away and in the half darkness of her room, he can see her features shift just slightly into something far less playful. Something expecting. He's not very good at meeting women's expectations.

Closing his eyes, he shakes his head, his head dipping down to bury his face in her neck. She tries turning her head, he can feel her muscles strain under his lips, can hear her taking a breath to repeat her question, but the what is lost on a whimper when he opens his mouth to run his tongue over the soft skin; feels her sharp exhale on his temple as he seals the deal with his teeth. Her fingers tighten in his hair, pulling him in, her hips bucking up beneath him.

"Don't think I don't know you're trying to distract me."

"Is it working," he mumbles under her ear, sucks her earlobe in between his lips.

"God, yes," she pants out, chuckling.

He distracts her.

.

Throwing his arm around her, Harvey breaths her in.

"Are you smelling my hair?"

"I don't have a choice," he says. "Turns out, it's pretty big."

"Don't make fun of my natural curls."

"I'm not. I like it." He means it, too.

"You are so falling for me," she murmurs into the darkness, nudging him with her shoulder. She nestles into the pillows and into him, ready to drift off.

It's not a serious observation. She's teasing him, that's all.

His heart beats wildly at every single point of contact between them as he considers the fact she might be right.

.

Harvey wakes up to an empty bed.

He puts on his pants and his shirt - he was half-expecting her to be wearing it, if he's honest - not bothering with more than a couple of buttons. Padding over to the kitchen, he sees her standing there, ready to hand him a cup of coffee.

He takes it, squinting at it.

"Déjà vu?" She asks and he shrugs in agreement; it _is_ an awful lot like their usual, except they're in her kitchen instead of in the office. "Yeah, I know."

A thought flashes in his head, and it's funny, really, that he should feel a pang of regret at the fact he won't see her later, at his desk, a cup of coffee in her hand. He doesn't know what the hell this is or how long they're gonna keep it up, but that? That could have lasted forever.

"Any plans for today?" She asks, sipping her own brew.

"A few. You?"

"I've got that interview at Skadden."

And that definitely stings. "That's right," he comments evenly. "They'd be lucky to have you." No one knows that better than him.

"Damn straight," she replies, brushing past him, and he finds he's unwilling to let her go.

He grabs her waist. "What time is your interview?"

She shoots him a look, "Why?"

"You know why."

She puts down her coffee and takes his hand. He follows her back to her bedroom.

.

Backing her up against her bedroom door, he undoes her robe as he kisses her neck. "How come you didn't wear my shirt."

"I'm at my home, Harvey," she says, wedging her thigh between his.

He bears down on it, already hard. "So?"

"Did you want me to wear your shirt?"

He kisses the top of her breast. Her fingers hold his head in place.

"Maybe next time then," she pants just before his mouth closes around her nipple.

He twines their fingers together, watches them interlace next to her head as he comes.

.

An hour later, he's standing on the wrong side of her front door, a stubble and a suit a little more rumpled for wear.

"Good luck on your interview," he says, but doesn't mean it.

She fixes his collar. "Good luck at Gordon Schmidt and Van Dyke."

"How did you —"

She inclines her head, pats his chest. "I hope it works out for you, Harvey."

He scans her face, "Yeah."

They stand in her doorway like that for a moment. His hands are heavy by his side; he really wants to touch her. She's looking at him like she's waiting on him to make a decision.

He goes for the safe one. (First of many.)

"I'll see you around."

She doesn't ask where or when. "I'll see you around, Harvey."

He hears the soft click of her door as he turns around to leave.

.

He means what he says to Jessica. He did have a good long think about who he wanted by his side in years to come. And he means Jessica over Cameron, but he means Donna over anyone else. He can get sex anywhere, but he can only get feeling like that from Donna. And if past has taught him anything it's that getting romantic is a sure-fire way of losing someone. Keeping her with him is non-negotiable, and he tells Jessica as much. It all sounds so simple; he's pleased with himself for figuring it out.

He gets aroused at the thought of whipped cream for an embarrassingly long time after that, and he includes it in some of his fantasies, but never in actual sex. He thinks about Donna a lot over the years, too, but doesn't do anything about it.

It's the right decision. He'd only end up screwing it up. He isn't ready, he isn't that guy.

Harvey spends the next twelve years reminding himself of that. Donna spends the next twelve years unknowingly shaping him into the man who is.

fin.


End file.
